Habit
by Harmony283
Summary: For LaviYu Day. It was a habit they both had grown accustomed to, no matter how much Kanda hated it, and how it was always Lavi's only option. It was a habit now, and it would be hard to break. LxK AU!


**Title: **Habit **  
Pairing: **Lavi x Kanda  
**Summary: **Kanda never said he wanted it, but now he knew it was necessary  
**Authors Notes: **written for LaviYuu day (mainly for my love of the pairing, but also to give myself a freakin' due date for once XD). Though with all my fics, it's AU, but this time it's in _3__rd__ Person, _which I dislike, but it needed to be done this way (less confusing as well). Also, yes I did my research. As much as my Google Search Engine would allow.  
**Warning: **AU, Kanda-speak (Language), Lavi-speak (suggestiveness), mention of Drug usage, overdosing (negative effects of medicine), massaging…and that's it?

* * *

L-A-V-I

* * *

_3:08AM (Saturday)_

Maybe he should have regretted it a little more, when he stepped out of the room, slipping on his jacket like he always did, and creeping down the hall. The house was quiet, as it was every time—he never did morning hours, afternoon hours, or even early evening, there was just something so _not kinky_ about doing it when the sun was up, but maybe that was just him. It made it easier to escape too, under the guise of darkness and the poorly-lit streets.

Maybe part of him should have regretted his exits—it wasn't like he could avoid all the women he chose. It was a god given plague he would run into them eventually, or that they would talk about him, spreading the word of his deeds that would make any woman think twice about sleeping with him—

Even though some did, anyway.

He reached the front door easily, slipping through nearly soundlessly, before stepping out onto the wet concrete walkway. The clouds still rumbled ominously overhead, and the air was almost too humid to be comfortable, but he ignored it, dashing through the wet grass of the front lawn. By the time he reached the sidewalk the ends of his jeans were sopping wet, but he ignored that too, instead listening to his shoes squish against the concrete as he headed underneath the streetlamps that had gone dark hours ago.

With the moon barely shining through the thick clouds, the small suburban road was cast in an inky darkness that the redhead wouldn't think anything of, under any circumstance. But it was on a night like this, he was glad he did business so close to home—no matter _how_ often he crashed at a friend's house, or no matter _how_ many times Bookman yelled at him afterward.

It was comforting. Something he refused to feel often—but it was there anyway. Though he knew at this ungodly hour Bookman probably _wouldn't_ let him in anyway, and that maybe a friend's house was the best choice of action.

Except for the fact, of course, _who would be up?_ He quickened his pace at the discerning thought, and at the rain that suddenly began to fall overhead. The _Beansprout_ wouldn't be up, he loved his sleep too much and—not to mention Mana's health was slowly deteriorating (not that the man ever said anything, but he noticed—with his Bookman trained eyes—_he noticed_).

Lenalee was out of the question as well, even though Komui probably _would_ let him in after two hours of interrogation. The experiments and odd scent of failed cooking, though, he could live without.

And Kanda?

And _Yuu_?

He paused when he reached the end of the street. Left meant home, right meant _city_—exit—find somewhere _random_ to sleep for the night—and straight meant _Kanda_—Yuu. He was losing time, each second adding to the sudden chill he felt from the unusually cold rain.

Kanda would be up, wouldn't he? It didn't bother the redhead too much that he knew such an intimate thought. The dark haired man had always had trouble sleeping—staying up to the wee hours of the morning, training or meditating, honing the skills he probably would never _need_ for the life of him—

But he would be up, and maybe, to him, the night was peaceful. As it _should_ be, but never was, to the redhead.

The rain picked up, almost in protest—or maybe agreement?—and Lavi quickly made his way across the street, ignoring the puddles forming in the yet-filled in potholes in the road. He ignored when water seeped into his sneakers, soaking through to his bare feet, and his too-baggy jeans—he'd have to change anyway, regardless.

Or else he'd sleep naked, which he wasn't opposed to, of course, but he knew Kanda would never allow it. No matter _how_ the raven haired teen viewed him—an insufferable idiot, annoying beyond reason, and noisy, nosy, narcissistic even—Lavi knew he'd at least give him _clothes_ and a place to sleep.

He really was too tired to make good on how often his mouth moved. He just wanted to get _out_ of the rain, into, maybe, a warm bed (or couch) he could _stay_ in and not worry. Not worry about awkwardness about morning afters, or sobbing teenage girls and apologies that sounded so _fake _that it made him _cringe_ when he knew he wasn't _supposed to_—

His train of thought derailed after that—forcefully chugging off the path, because he didn't need it. It could fall off a _cliff_ for all he cared—for the fact that he _didn't_ care. His lips twisted into a tired smile, quickly forming a yawn afterward, as he made for short cuts—slinking behind fenced in yards, unfenced yards, past guard dogs, and light sleepers—focusing on his tired feet and his current objective.

Because if he was going to find Kanda, he didn't want to go through the front. He already knew the man lived alone, in one of the smaller houses along the road, because of his foster father. The man was a fulltime traveling _artist_ after all, constantly going places to paint, fill requests of rich men who had too much time on their hands—it made no sense for him to keep his children _home_, when he himself was there so little.

Kanda had been the only one to stay so close, though, of his own free will (and, admittedly, since he _was_ the youngest, _and_ going to the same University. It made sense he'd stay close). No matter how often he said he _hated_ it—anyone with eyes could see he didn't. Not really.

Which was another reason, he was the best choice to bunk with for the night. Maybe weekend—if Bookman blew his top at him. Lavi cringed at the thought—he didn't have much of a choice if _that_ happened. He only hoped the obsidian eyed man would understand that (small hope, but he _could_ hope), and let him.

It _was_, after all, an ungodly hour of the morning. And he needed a place to stay. And they—they _were_ 'friends' right? _Right?  
_

_

* * *

  
_K-A-N-D-A

* * *

_3:21AM (Saturday)_

It wasn't that he couldn't sleep. It never was because of that—or at least, he never _blamed_ his almost perpetual insomnia. The covers weren't comfortable, they needed to be washed, the air conditioning was set too high, and the air outside—too humid. It was stuffy, and uncomfortable, and he felt the beginnings of a headache throb at the base of his skull.

It wasn't that he couldn't sleep. Everything natural was preventing it, cursing him from lying back down and shutting his eyes. Which he couldn't do, it made his headache spike, his stomach churn, and an unpleasant whiteness to flash in annoying little dots behind his eyelids.

He let out a loud groan, and sat up for the fifth time—checking his alarm clock. It was nowhere _near_ time for him to get up, even if he had classes. It was a _Saturday_—so painfully early in the morning and even _then_ with a headache this bad—

Today would _not_ be a good day; he marked it painfully in his mind, rubbing the back of his neck before forcing himself up. He couldn't stay still now, with the dull throbbing slowly growing worse, and his muscles twitching and restless. He glanced over towards his desk, where Mugen leaned, up against his chair. Suddenly he wanted to feel that familiar hilt of his blade, the _motions_ he found so relaxing. Because he knew, very well, it might be the only thing that worked.

His lips twitched into a grin, as he maneuvered over to his desk, picking up the blade carefully, before turning and heading out of his small room, down the hall, and into the sparcely decorated 'dining room' area. Why he had it—despite eating on the couch, more often than not—was for formalities sake. Tiedoll _insisted_ upon buying him the house—and he knew it had been better not to argue.

Except he argued anyway. That man was almost as annoying as a certain _redhead_—his head throbbed, painfully, at the thought of the slightly-younger man—but the man had saved him, and that earned his respect. He couldn't _not_ say no to the man.

At least to that.

Pushing those thoughts from his mind, he slowly exhaled, trying his best to ignore the annoying throbbing as he readied Mugen, raising it above his head in the simple practiced motion of Jogi Buri—back, forth, sideways—repeat. He nearly reached thirty when a sudden tap on the back door broke his concentration.

Whipping around, for a moment he thought it had just been the rain. But the rain didn't _tap_ like that—not unless the storm was worse than it sounded. Which was impossible, he had memorized the sound the rain made nearly everywhere in the house, due to sleepless nights and restless blood. It wasn't unusual—not for him—and maybe, if he had been anyone else he would have worried over _who_ was making that tapping noise. He had a good idea, after all, _no one _bothered him. Ever.

Much less came in through the _back _door.

He let out a sigh, and moved towards the sliding glass doors, pushing aside the sheer curtains, and raising the heavy blinds.

He was right. Of_ course he was right_. Standing there, under the small overhang, dampened with rain water and possibly sweat (from an activity Kanda didn't even _want_ to name, nor did he care. That much) --was Bookman's only heir, the Baka-Usagi, looking pleadingly desperate that Kanda almost—_nearly_ turned away.

Except for he _knew_ the idiot would still be there—he would sleep outside in the rain, and then he would never hear the end of it. Especially if the idiot got _sick_, and he really didn't like the concept of taking care of a sick rabbit—no matter _how_ long the two had known each other. His head gave a painful throb in agreement.

He let out another sigh, gripping Mugen just a bit tighter as he undid the lock and slid the door open. The redhead almost immediately came stumbling in, dragging in rain water, and grass, and mud from his sneakers, _grinning_ all the while in that way that _almost_ made Kanda want to gut him. Our gouge his own eyes out, so he wouldn't have to see it.

But he wouldn't, and he didn't. Instead turning on his heels towards the linen closet nearby, barking out over his shoulder, "Take of your fucking shoes—and don't _move_." He didn't want the idiot tracking mud, and water, and—_other things_—into his home. It would only make things worse. It would only grate on his nerves—_worse_.

He was glad the redhead recognized his tone well enough to comply, the shoes slipping off to reveal equally as soaked feet—no socks—Kanda dully wondered if the idiot ever _wore_ socks (or…_other things_) but didn't speculate. Instead, he fumbled through the closet for one of the bigger towels, though he knew it wouldn't do any good for his wet clothing. It would just add to the pile he'd inevitably have to_ wash_ and _dry_ and—

He tossed the towel at the taller man's head, smirking at the shocked look on the others face, "Dry off." He ordered, "Then go and take a fucking _shower_. You reek."

Because he _did_, unfortunately. With rain (a scent he hated already), and grass, and mud, and _other_ things he didn't want to give a name to. And already, he could feel his headache throbbing away, growing in intensity, he was sure he would flinch—or—_gut_ the redhead, if he so much as said a _word_.

Unfortunately for him, Lavi didn't catch the memo, "Aw, Yuu-chan, cold as ever?" despite the underlying shaking—from the rain, most likely, and fatigue, from however long he'd been walking—his voice was _happy_, _warm_, and _so god damned annoying_.

Kanda balled one hand up into a fist, turning towards the kitchen. He knew Tylenol wouldn't work—it never did. _Why_ he kept it on hand, still, he didn't know. But he could hope it would work, just this once, right? He could hope that he took enough, the throb would return back to a dull ache.

"Neh, Yuu," but the redhead was _not_ helping, "You've got a headache?" He answered with the customary 'che', reaching up into the closest cabinet, taking down the small basket _filled _with pills he knew wouldn't work—had _never_ worked, but Tiedoll had given him anyway. It gave the man small comfort, maybe, to make himself _believe_ they worked, but Kanda pushed that aside, taking out the white bottle, and dumping two—four—six pills into his hand. He could have gotten a drink to swallow them by, but he had learned how to take them dry long ago—back…when he took something else.

He promptly ignored that memory too, popping the first of the six into his mouth and easily swallowing. He didn't even realize the redhead had come up behind him, until he felt a wet hand on his shoulder, "Yuu—woah, hey you can't _take _that much." His hand immediately balled into a fist, a sad attempt to hide the pills Lavi had already seen—_counted_--

"Che, it's just _Tylenol._"

"Yeah—Liver Failure in a bottle." Lavi spat back, grabbing Kanda's fist and un-clenching it, "You aren't supposed ta take more than _two_—four, if you're takin' it for like, a broken bone." He so accurately pointed out, "But six, Yuu? Your headache that bad?"

"Che," the same response he always fell back on, the only one he could make—with Lavi this close, his voice ten times _louder_—and _right in his ear_. He almost flinched at the next stab of pain jolting through his head.

"there's a much safer way, y'know." Lavi didn't seem to notice his pain, "I mean—Gramps taught me a few tricks with acupuncture an' stuff."

"There's no fucking way you're getting those needles _anywhere_ near me." A full sentence dropped from his mouth, adding to the throbbing pain in his skull, "I'm not some fucking pin cushion."

"O' course you aren't." Lavi more than agreed, slight fear lacing through his voice, "I'm just usin' my fingers. Trust me—" Kanda raised an eyebrow, Lavi saw, "—jus'…go lie down, on the couch or somethin'. It's easier that way."

Kanda scowled, "You are _not_ sitting on my furniture when you're wet."

"Then I'll strip." It was so perfectly _Lavi_ to answer like that—tone completely devoid (for once) of all sexual innuendo he would have normally packed into that sentence, "Unless y'wanna get me some clothes, or…_I_ get myself some clothes, or something." He trailed off, finally noticing when Kanda flinched again, "But if your headache's that bad then…" again, he trailed off, Kanda shaking his head in response.

"No. It isn't. I don't want your fucking clothes ruining my couch—and I _don't_ want to stare at your naked ass either."

"Hey!" Lavi almost sounded hurt, "I've got a _nice_ ass! And besides—I wear boxers." Suddenly his tone turned contemplative, "What makes you think I _don't_?" And curious. Kanda hated _curious_. The redhead was _always_ too curious for his own damned good.

"Tch, you need me to tell you?" he pulled away from the redhead, ignoring as each pill hit the floor with a soft _tap_. He didn't feel the need to say more, the redhead seemed to be thinking on it enough as it was. All he had to do was get from the room, grab some spare clothes—maybe even look for a pair of jeans he _knew_ Lavi had left there, for whatever intended purposes—and make his way back.

It shouldn't have been that hard, except for the _throbbing_ and the plain fact he _knew_ he wouldn't get any sleep tonight. That, and the redhead—in general. Just _knowing_ he was in the other room, possibly running his mouth off just to fill the silence, was enough to put the other man on edge. It was only then, that he realized he had Mugen still gripped—almost painfully—in his free hand. He placed it gently up against the wall, by his door, as he entered his room, and immediately headed for his dresser.

He tugged out Lavi's pants (yes, he had washed them, _yes_ maybe that was a bit too nice of him, but right now he didn't give a fuck. His pants wouldn't fit the other man anyway) and a large sweatshirt he knew would fit. With the articles of clothing in hand, he turned around, and made his way back to where the redhead was.

He could hear his voice—talking out loud, to fill the silence, _just_ as Kanda knew he would—before he saw him. He nearly stopped dead, though, when he saw exactly _what_ the redhead was doing. Stripping—slowly—as if it pained him, each piece of clothing hitting the floor with a sopping thud.

He saw the scratches down Lavi's back—near the shoulders—and his throat tightened in disgust. Lavi _had_ just—come from—doing _that_ with—_someone_. And he didn't want to know who, but it made his stomach churn, and head pound, just a little more. He had to force his legs to keep moving though, and the redhead had heard him anyway. Smiling, he unbuttoned the top button of his pants, and quickly pulled off the zipper.

Kanda didn't have time to look away—or do anything much—but…

"See?" Lavi stated, proudly, "I _am_ wearing boxers." He pointed to the atrocious pink and white rabbit-patterned boxers, "You just had the bad luck of walking in on me after a night of fun!"

"In which you sleep naked," Kanda let out a coarse growl, forcing his way forward again until he was standing in front of the redhead, "Clothes. Change." Then he turned away.

"Thank ya, Yuu-chan~!" The man hummed, and he heard the familiar shuffling of clothes being put on, "but y'know…you really could've knocked before you came bargin' in like that. Coulda saved yourself the scars." Though he sounded hurt by the notion that it _scarred _him—Kanda could only 'Che' in response, and move over to the couch, away from the Bookman Apprentice.

It was still too hot to lie down, but it was a bit cooler than his room. Maybe sleep could have been possible then, if he was alone, without the incessant redhead, and the talking, and the _not ceasing _to talk, and the headache that just seemed to get worse and worse and—

He nearly yelped in surprise, when he felt the cushion dip dangerously close to his thigh, and he went rigid, like a string pulled too tight, as two big hands cupped the sides of his face.

"Jeez, Yuu, calm down—it's just _me_." The redhead replied, just as cheerily as always. Kanda kept his frown, "What? You want me to help you get rid o'your headache or _not_?" he chided, still friendly, hands shifting, thumbs pressing gently, on either side of his head. This just made Kanda tense further—he almost pulled away.

"What are—"

"It's ta get rid of your headache." The redhead shifted, the close proximity, causing his legs to bend in awkward ways as he tried to give Kanda as much space as possible, "Better than needles, but it still involves touchin'." The thumbs began to rotate, clockwise, against those two points, and Kanda had to admit—whether he wanted to or not, but the motion was almost relaxing. Judging from the redhead's expression—it was intended.

And just like that, he wanted to pull away. Being relaxed (if it was ever even possible) around the redhead could mean _anything_. He didn't trust his muscles loosening, or his eyes slowly shutting, but almost as soon as he forced them open the second time, the man's hands had moved.

This time he was cradling his head against his palms, thumbs pressing, in between his eyes—_hard_—he really _did_ almost pull away at that—and all Lavi did was give him an apologetic smile, "Sorry, sorry, this part's supposed ta hurt." The redhead tried to explain, "It's for blood circulation." His thumbs still moved in circular motions, "If we don't press hard, it won't do any good." Kanda gritted his teeth against it—against saying anything, against _pulling_ away—because, how was _hurting_ someone supposed to _help_?

But as soon as he thought that, the thumbs moved away again. It almost felt like they were drawing an invisible line, until Lavi stopped them, and applied circular pressure once more. It didn't hurt as much, for that he was thankful, and soon he felt Lavi trace another invisible line—connecting the two, almost, and—

Then his hands dropped, cupping his face once more with an easy smile, "There—I'm done." Kanda blinked, almost taken aback, but he hid it. "Is your headache gone?" the redhead asked a second later, brows furrowing slightly, "Cuz if it's not—"

Kanda didn't need to hear the rest, nor did he _want_ to. Because, when he checked, the pain was no longer there. The dull throbbing had left at some time during the massage, and—he was almost grateful.

But it was the redhead. And he never said _'thank you'_ or was grateful—for _anything_ the redhead did, "I'm fine." He cut off whatever the redhead had been rambling about, "It's gone. Now get your fucking hands _off_ me."

Immediately the hands were gone. Kanda smirked inwardly at the flash of fear in the other's eyes. But the fear was gone in nearly an instant, replaced by a haphazard smile that brightened the man's face to a near unbearable level, "Really? That's great, I was worried it wouldn't work or somethin'." He let out a shaky laugh, and that's when Kanda realized he had forgoed the shirt entirely, and it was draped across the back of the couch, "But, uh, I guess—now that it's…gone. Ah," the redhead paused, rubbing the back of his neck, almost apologetic, "I'm _really, really_ tired. I didn't wake you, did I?"

But he already knew the answer to that, "Che, no." Kanda answered him anyway, shifting and moving off the couch, "You know where the guest room is."

"R-Right," again an odd hesitancy and _apologetic_ tone, "But—I mean—if you can't _sleep_ then…I could help with that too?" Kanda tensed when he heard the redhead shift on the cushions, almost ready to stand up.

"Fuck no."

"But—" Lavi started, again, Kanda didn't even glance back, "If ya don't get enough sleep, you'll be cranky in the morning." He paused, "Even though technically it already _is_ morning, but y'know what I mean?"

"Again. No." He barked out both words, "I'll be _fine_."

"Really?" Inquisitive, nosy, if Kanda didn't leave the room he _knew_ his headache would come back, "Cuz a cranky Yuu is a cranky Yuu—an' it's not healthy anyway." The cushions shifted again, along with padding—now dry—footsteps. "I could help y'know. It'd be really easy too." He might not have been implying anything by that—Kanda cursed himself mentally for where his train of thought immediately led—but he couldn't forget the painful looking scratches on Lavi's back. The ones he had accidentally seen.

It wouldn't be beyond the idiot Rabbit to—to—

"Che, and what about you?" He spat out, hoping—_hoping_ the Rabbit would understand, and go off to the guest room and leave him the _fuck_ alone.

"What about me?"

"You showed up at my house, sopping wet—from God knows where," not that he believed God watched such a sinful act, not that he believed in God in _general_, "shouldn't you be passed out by now?"

For a moment an awkward silence filled the room, followed by Lavi's surprisingly…_cheerful_ voice, "Not really, actually. I'm kinda hyper, now."

Kanda groaned inwardly as his mind dipped again, into that place Lavi so lovingly referred to as—the _gutter_.

"An' I was just wonderin' if I could help _you_ sleep, since if _you_ fell asleep then I'd have nothin' to do, then I'd get _bored_ and fall asleep too, y'know?" He laughed out easily, reaching out to take some of Kanda's loose hair between his fingertips.

"No I _don't_ know." Immediately Kanda moved away from the touch, "Like I could fall asleep with you in the room anyway." He ignored the look of mock-hurt on the others face, and quickly marched from the room, down the hall and towards his own.

He hadn't, however, counted on the redhead _following_ him.

"Kanda!" he didn't get a chance to slam the door in his face, Lavi's foot caught the door instead, and briefly, Kanda thought it might have been painful, from the way Lavi grimaced after he forced the door open—but it wasn't like he cared.

"Get the fuck _out_." He hissed instead, "Didn't you _hear_ me?"

"Yeah I did." He was limping slightly, "but really, Yuu, " Kanda braced himself for the idiots next words, but they weren't what he was expecting, "it's _stuffy_ in here." His eyes widened slightly as Lavi pushed past him—towards the window, which he shoved open in nearly the same movement. Immediately the smell of rain entered the room and—it _would_ have been refreshing, if Kanda hadn't hated the smell.

"There," the redhead smiled, ignoring Kanda's darkening expression before sitting gingerly on the desk chair, "See? Just let your room air out a bit—no _wonder_ you're so insomnia prone." Then, and only then—when he was done talking, and could actually _see_—did he realize he might have made a mistake, "Yuu?" he tried, hesitantly, when the man didn't respond for a few moments, "What? Do you really hate sleep that much?" he tried again—only to get a completely different response.

"Close the window."

"Why?" the word was out before he could slap his mouth shut. Kanda did_ not_ look happy, and Lavi did _not_ want to know what that could mean for him, and his likelihood of surviving the night. It wasn't like Kanda would give him an answer, it wasn't like the glower would go away—but, well, he could _try_ right? "It'll help, I promise it will." He continued like he hadn't lapsed, "I mean yeah, it's raining, but don't'cha love the sound of rain? The smell? It's so refreshin'."

"I hate it." The darkened look was now reflected in his words, Lavi could barely suppress the cold shiver that laced its way down his spine. "Close the window."

Lavi felt himself nod his head, and stand, once more, careful of his sore foot, but as he leaned back over the desk to close the window, he paused. He could see Kanda's reflection, blearily, through the window, dark and brooding, like a stormy sky. It made him curious, even though he knew he should never question it.

"Why?" He wondered, plainly, hands on the glass, smudging it, still leaning over the desk, maybe vulnerable. He couldn't see Kanda's expression very well, but he was probably annoyed, "It's just rain."

"And it annoys me." The dead venom was there, "Now _close_ the window. I definitely won't be able to fucking sleep if you _don't_."

"Then sleep in another room." Lavi straightened up, disregarding the window, "Your room _is_ too stuffy. What? Do ya lock yourself up here all day?" He could see his expression clearly now, but it didn't tell him much, "Y'know that's not healthy."

"Neither is doing what you do." The words were accusatory at best, reprimanding, harsh, cold—Lavi could pretend he heard _worry_ there too, but it wasn't a necessity Kanda ever really _had_. And that made it hurt all the worse, as another silence filtered in between the two of them—colder—longer—and that much more unpleasant.

But Lavi wouldn't get angry. No. Because he was _right_, and what was the point of arguing when one person was right to begin with? So he did the only thing he could—and _smiled, _"Yeah, actually, you're right. It isn't."

Kanda looked taken aback, like he hadn't expected him to _say_ that, and—_there_—there was the caring. For just minute, flickering in the back, somewhere, melded with all the other emotions Kanda had pressed back, compacted. Along with a question—two, or three—that he would never ask, because he _didn't_ care that much. Lavi knew this. Or at least, he knew Kanda to know he was another pretender.

So he continued, just for the sake of it, and because, maybe he _liked_ to see that worry, "An' I probably shouldn't be doin' it, I mean, Bookman yells at me enough about it as it is, which is why I came here in the first place." He rubbed the back of his head, like this was _natural_ when it so clearly _wasn't_ that he wanted to laugh, "But it's easy to do."

Because in the end it _was_ easy to do, to just reap the physical reward from it, and to forget the emptiness that came afterward. He had long ago forgotten what 'empty' was. Or he tried to, anyway. So it was pleasure, just pleasure to fill carnal desires that human's naturally had. It was so easily justified—examined. At face value. Without feelings—without _the_ feelings that should be there.

Kanda looked disgusted, and a question formed on his lips, but it quickly deformed to a statement. Kanda was all about statements, "You're sick." He spat, nose crinkling as he watched the redhead, smiling at him, blocking the window that was _still_ open.

The smile never faltered, though, "I guess, yeah, I am. I don't even remember why I started." He didn't believe it though, he was lying, Kanda was almost certain—and had the same redhead been _implying_ earlier that he would?

No. No, it was just his mind, falling to a place he shouldn't have gone.

"You're the first person that's brought it up, though." The idiot decided oh-so-helpfully point out, "I mean, not that Lenalee knows much, and the Beansprout." Kanda mouth turned down in a deep scowl. It made Lavi laugh, "What? You're affected just by his damn _name_? Seriously Yuu, what kinda petty rivalry do ya got _goin'_ with that kid?" It was an honest question, one he felt he could answer short—and sweet—to get it over with.

"He's annoying."

"I'd be surprised to find a person who _didn't_ annoy you." Lavi butted in.

"He's cocky," Lavi stayed silent, "and he has _no_ sense of honor." Because he cheated on nearly everything, "And he's a brat."

"All of which _can_ be true." Lavi agreed, "I jus' think you two hit off on the wrong note." He cocked his head ever so slightly to the side, "But I don't think talkin' about someone who annoys the everliving hell outta ya is gonna help ya go to sleep." Kanda couldn't stop his muscles from tensing up at that, he could feel his mind slowly falling again—especially in the direction their conversation had suddenly gone.

However outwardly his reaction was, it made the redhead laugh, "Y'don't have to look so horrified, Yuu. Ya really _do_ need to get some sleep, we _both_ do. I'm just offerin' to help." He leaned back into the chair, and smiled what Kanda _hoped_ was just a comforting smile. Except it wasn't comforting—far from it (not that he'd be willingly comforted by the man).

"Help me _how_?" And that question, he decided, should have never left his brain, where it had tossed and turned since the redhead had first mentioned the prospect of _help_.

"How do ya think?" Kanda really wished the man hadn't asked that, and from the amused look playing across his face—he _got_ it. More than got it, "What? Sure sex is a great way to fall asleep—hell I'm drained to th' bone and I'm told I've got _excellent_ stamina." Which Kanda didn't need to know, and made a point to _forget_, "But I dun' think you'd like it. I mean—unless I severely missed the memo somewhere." He paused, smirking lightly at whatever expression Kanda had the horror of making—which had plenty to do with sudden warmth creeping up his face, to his cheeks, and ears—then stood up. "But I wasn't lying—I _can_ help you fall asleep. There's more than one _decent_ way—and it sure as hell looks like you need a good night's sleep." He smiled reassuringly, but it was still unsettling.

Unsettling _but_, a glance at the clock proved it was almost 4AM. There was almost no _point_ in going to sleep now; when he would only wake—habitually—in an hour. He scowled lightly and shook his head, "I'd be up in an hour anyway." He didn't necessarily have to tell him that, but the redhead understood, "And _you_ still need a shower. You reek."

He hadn't meant to sound like a mother hen—or—_whatever_ he sounded like, but it had slipped out again. So many words kept slipping, but before Lavi could reach him, he was already stepping out into the hall again, into the nice _much cooler_, and less stuffy hall. It didn't smell that much like rain.

"But Yuu—" Lavi, naturally, followed him out anyway, which he tried to ignore, but when they walked completely past the bathroom, he had to scowl, "You'll feel like hell and back tomorrow and—"

"Shower. Now." He didn't see the redhead flinch as he picked up the sopping wet clothes with a grimace. He didn't care that much, "I'll…_wash_…these." He turned to the kitchen, and to the small offshoot where the washer and drier was stored. He could have told Lavi to do it himself, but he was already half way there, anyway, and he didn't want Lavi anywhere _near_ his dirty clothes.

That thought didn't sit particularly well with him, as he pulled apart the wet shirt, from the equally saturated jeans—grimacing at the disgusting feeling, and resisting the urge to pinch his nose. He only half noticed when something slid out of one of the pockets—of Lavi's jacket—as he tossed the articles of clothing in. Only when he started the machine did he bend down and pick up the object—

It was a necklace, but different from the ones Lavi usually wore (not that he ever paid that much attention, but it was hard _not_ to notice). It had a charm on it that almost looked like it could hold something—or that something was in it, he couldn't tell, the glass was painted a dark shade of red.

Not that he cared, he simply placed it on top of the drier, and turned around, walking back out into the kitchen, then to the lone couch he had been sitting on earlier. Leaning back against the cushions, he closed his eyes briefly, listening to the rain pattering against the windows, and the sound of the shower running down the hall.

It was almost peaceful. Almost—if the fact that it was the _redhead_ currently sharing his home didn't immediately negate that. The idiot—_why_ he always seemed to choose _his_ place, when it obviously wasn't the closest, he would never know, and it was annoying, but he knew it would be even worse than hearing him complain for the next three days about injustice—

Or something.

It was his own fault, regardless, with the way he lived. He _brought_ everything onto himself, it was almost funny. Except for it wasn't, and Kanda could almost say the redhead made him worry once or twice. Not because of the stunts he pulled, but from Lenalee's worried expression whenever he'd go to _her_ and not him.

So maybe—he was glad, in a twisted sort of way. Lenalee didn't need to _worry_ about idiot rabbits and the stupid stunts they pulled, he didn't need to bother her with them, nor did he want to (to some extent). So maybe it was _good_ that Lavi wound up using his shower nearly every weekend, crashed on his couch—nearly every weekend—maybe it was fine like that.

It was still damn annoying though. The insufferable redheaded idiot. But it had become a habit. A habit he knew he wouldn't so willingly break.

* * *

*headdesk* well I managed to get this finished (after workin' on it since last night) and, needless to say, I enjoyed it. I also noticed Kanda's part was insanely longer than Lavi's, but, uh, yeah. I just felt they needed labels, and sorry for any confusion!

(A-And…I keep noticing this, but…WHY must I always write something that sounds like it can be continued?!? T^T *sobcry in a corner* )

Ah, heck, HAPPY LAVIYUU DAY! And reviews would be loved for eons!


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